Flying Without Wings
by LightningDancer
Summary: Ron, Hermione, and Harry. A Muggle Household at Christmas. What do you get when you combine the two? Two words- Mass. Destruction
1. The Arrival

Hello people! This is my little obligatory author's note. My first ever fic, :::adopts a Scottish accent::: I'm getting all emotional from it! Lol, that's enough. Am I crazy? You bet I am. 

Well, I don't really have a whole lot to say, but I like to babble and since I am holding the microphone, YOU WILL LISTEN TO EVERY DARN WORD I HAVE TO SAY! And the first.... let's make it two people that tell me where that last line comes from will get a role in my fic, later on. Not a big role, but I need names and I can never pick ones myself. So that makes it so much easier.

And I bet right now you're saying, "will she shut UP? I want to read fanfiction, not listen to some idiot babble!" Whelp, who am I to keep the public waiting? So, on with the fic!

  
  


Disclaimer- Two words: Fan. Fiction. If I owned anything but the plot, (which probably has already been done, there are some 30 thousand+ fics out there) it would not be called FANfiction. It would be TheRealDealFiction. And then you all would be making disclaimers to me!! BWA-HAHAHA!!

  
  


Dedicated to Lisa, who saw this first, and my tea-party buddy Sleeze, who not only taught me I had wings, but showed me how to use them. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


~**~**~**~**~

  
  


__Her dream started the same as always.

  
  


_ She was by the small lake behind her house, which was frozen over with a thick coat of ice. Snow was swirling to the ground in thick sheets. In her hands were a pair of ice skates. She sat on a log, removed her boots and quickly laced up the skates, standing and wobbling only the slightest bit. She took a step onto the lake and pushed off, gliding smoothly across the ice._

  
  


_ Her skates made the familiar swooshing noise that they always had, and she felt very much at home out on the ice. She skated a perfect figure eight, ending with a small twirl. It gave her the same light-headedness that it used to, back when she skated every day, and she craved more. She quickly leapt into a fast spin, her bushy hair fanning out around her head. It gave her an indescribable rush, like she was flying. As she spun she saw something new, something that had never before been in this particular dream sequence. _

  
  


_ There was a person watching her twirl, and as she continued to spin, the person continued to watch. The falling snow was just thick enough that she wasn't able to make out who it was, though something told her that she knew this person. The body was definitely male, but that was all she could tell._

  
  


_ She stopped spinning; she wanted to find out who this person was. She began to skate towards the figure, but he turned and began to walk away. She skated faster, but didn't seem to be getting any closer to him, whoever 'he' was. So all she could do was watch the person walk into the swirling snow and out of sight, somehow knowing that she would never see him again._

  
  


~**~**~**~**~

  
  


Hermione Granger woke with a start. After a few seconds wondering what had woken her so suddenly, she remembered- she'd had the dream again. Groaning, she sat up and pulled back the bed curtains. _'The same dream every night,'_ she thought, _'and I still can't figure it out.' _She winced as the early-morning sunlight streaming through a nearby window hit her face, and it certainly didn't go away when her feet hit the cold floor.

  
  


_ 'Of all the spells they've invented for all the useless things in the world,'_ she thought grouchily, 'and they couldn't have come up with one that kept the floor from freezing into a solid block of ice.' Ice... Like in her dream. 

  
  


As she pulled on some socks, she tried to decipher the strange dream. Why had she ice skated? She hadn't done that since she'd gone home for Christmas break during first year. She missed it, especially now during the winter months, but she hadn't even really thought about it since she started having the dreams about a week ago. 

  
  


And the man (boy? She didn't know) watching her skate... He was new. Who was he? And why did he run away? It was as if he hadn't wanted her to know who he was. That seemed to be the only logical reason for him to run away from her. And...

  
  


_'And why do I care?'_ she thought, more than a little angry with herself. Hermione had always prided herself on being sensible, and worrying about some dream she had was definitely not. Resolving not to think about it, she strode to the window. It had snowed during the night, blanketing Hogwarts in white. The lake was frozen over on the edges. If the cold weather held out for much longer, it would be frozen the whole way through. Ideal for ice skating. Ice skating... 

  
  


She gave herself a mental slap._ 'What is wrong with me?' _she wondered angrily. Her mind had never given her any trouble before; why did it have to start now? 

  
  


She hurriedly dressed and grabbed her bag. When she reached the door she turned and looked back at the two other beds in the dormitory. Should she wake Lavender and Parvati, her two roommates? It would be the nice thing to do. Hermione didn't want them to be late, after all. 

  
  


_ 'Nah,'_ she thought, and left the room.

  
  


~**~**~**~**~

  
  


It was still relatively early, so Hermione was one of the first people into the Great Hall for breakfast that morning. She took a seat by herself and grabbed a bowl of porridge and took out her Arithmancy textbook. After about fifteen minutes of quiet, Arithmancy-filled solitude, she shut the book with a snap and groaned. Try as she might, nothing could keep her mind off that stupid dream. 

  
  


"A fat lot of good you did me," she said, looking down at her Arithmancy book. 

  
  


"I think it's finally happened, mate. She's begun to talk to her books. Time for the nuthouse," said a voice behind her. She knew that voice- Ron Weasley. And, presumably, Harry Potter with him. _'Just what I need,'_ she thought,_ 'a sarcastic comment from the King of sarcastic comments.'_

  
  


But then again, beating him down would be a nice way to start the day.

  
  


"This coming from the person who calls himself the 'Supreme All-High Chess God,' and every one else his 'Faithful Yet Easily Beatable Dominions'," she said cooly, rolling her eyes as Ron took the seat next to her, and Harry the one across. 

  
  


"That's Mr. Chess God to you, missy."

  
  


"I'll remember that the next time that I beat you," she said, grinning at the memory of the game they had played last night. She had beat him for the first time ever, and was planning on working her victory. 

  
  


"Hey," he began, defensive, "it was only the one time. And I was tired."

  
  


"Sure, sure, whatever you say, Mr. Chess God." Ron started to say something scathing, and it was probably a good thing that he got cut off by the morning mail, delivered by owl.

  
  


The usual owl landed in front of her, carrying a Daily Prophet. She untied the paper, and the owl swooped away, another newspaper appearing magically on its leg. Hermione was about to read it when another owl landed in front of her, an owl she recognized. It had an envelope, instead of the usual parchment, tied to its leg.

  
  


"Whose owl is this?" asked Harry as he untied the letter for Hermione. 

  
  


"My parents bought an owl over the summer, in case they needed to reach me in the magical world," she said off-handedly as she tore open the envelope. _'I wonder why they're sending me a letter,'_ she thought. _'They usually just wait until I send them one, and just use the same owl to send a reply.'_ She read it quickly, and then read it again to make sure she had it right. Harry and Ron watched her expectantly. She stared down at the letter for quite some time, and when she finally spoke, it was with the voice of one who was announcing plans for battle.

  
  


"Well," she said with a sigh, "I'm going home for Christmas."

  
  


Harry and Ron exchanged glances, each a little confused. "What's so bad about that?" asked Ron. 

  
  


"You two are coming with me."

  
  


~**~**~**~**~

  
  


DUN DUN DUN!! So, why is this such a bad thing? And why is Hermione having that weird dream? Did Parvati and Lavender wake up on time? (Does anyone really care about them anyway?) And what is the deal between Eminem and Kim? Answers to these questions (well, some of them) and more in part two, to hit the shelves of ff.net soon!

  
  


And it would be way nice if someone could help me out with a better title.

  
  


P.S. Look at that empty box down there. Isn't it ugly? If you type little words in it, it will look a lot better! So come on, give the box a make-over, leave a review!

  
  



	2. The Departure

So, you're back for more, eh? Well, I applaud your bravery. I give my eternal gratitude to all that reviewed chapter one. (yeah, all six of you...) Just know that I am forever in your debt. The winners of the "Where the Heck Does That Line Come From" contest are... BUM BUM!! Day_Dreamer (you need to leave your name, so I can use it), and Julia Coyle (which is a *great* name... say hi to the mutants for me!)!! Congrats to them. And Emerald... your wish is my command! Aragog... The Road to Eldorado, LOL. And "On Thin Ice"? That would be a *fantaburific* title, but I don't want to change this all around now. But let's say that it is subtitled "On Thin Ice", ok? On to the fic!

  
  


Wait, BTW, let's say... Parvati woke up on time, but Lavender was late. Satisfied, people? 

  
  


Disclaimer: Once again, I own nada, except for the plot. The one and only J.K. ROWLING owns all of the characters, and God bless her. We love you, J.K., and if you finish the next book before November, I'll let you own the plot too! Yeah! (Oh yeah, she's gonna push the pages now!)

By the way, I know this has a pretty mope title, but if you just stick with it, you'll see why the title is what it is. And hey, Westlife sings a song called Flying Without Wings. Do yourself a flavor and take a listen to that baby!

  
  


Dedicated in loving memory to the Flock. I'll never forget you guys. Always remember- just smile and nod.

  
  
  
  


~**~**~**~**~

  
  


"You two are coming with me."

  
  


Hermione had noticeably paled. Harry and Ron, being the boys that they were, didn't notice. Harry looked excited by the idea, and Ron snatched up the letter and read out loud-

  
  


_Dear Squirt, _('Squirt? Oh yeah,' he thought, 'new material!')__

  
  


_How are you? We hope that school is going well for you this year. _

  
  


_You're probably wondering why we're owling you. Well, we'll cut to the chase. You are coming home for Christmas this year. We haven't seen you on Christmas holidays for three years now, and the season is a time for family. But it is also a time for friends. Which is why we have extended the invitation to your two friends, Harry Potter and Ron Wezley, as well. We have already sent an owl to Mister Wezley's parents, and they agreed to let him stay with us. We also sent a letter to Mister Potter's aunt and uncle, and they said that as long as he didn't come back to their house for vacation, whatever he did was fine with them. _

  
  


_So, surprise! We'll pick the three of you up from King's Cross Station on the 22nd. See you then, and merry Christmas!_

_Love,_

_Mom and Dad_

  
  


After a moment or two of silence, Ron said, "Why do people always spell my last name wrong?"

  
  


Hermione ignored him; right now, that was the absolute least of her worries. She shut her eyes and pinched her arm, apparently hoping that maybe this was some kind of nightmare that she would wake up from. But of course, when she opened her eyes she was still sitting in the Great Hall, and Ron and Harry were looking at her worriedly. Ron thought that maybe this would not be the best time to call her Squirt.

  
  


"Hermione?" asked Harry tentatively, "why are you banging your head against the table?"

  
  


Hermione looked up, mid-bang. "You two are coming home with me for Christmas." She sounded thoroughly miserable.

  
  


"And why is this a problem?" asked Ron, raising his voice so that he would be heard over the banging. Hermione let her head drop with one last thunk to the table, letting her forehead rest on it. 

  
  


"My parents," she said, her voice extremely muffled, "love Christmas."

  
  


"Who doesn't?" asked Harry. "Food, presents, no school... What's not to like?"

  
  


"You don't understand. My parents love Christmas. As in *love*. It's an all out Christmas extravaganza. It's Christmaspalooza. You can't even recognize my house under all the decorations. And there's singing and feasting and dancing... And now you guys are going to be forced into it, and you'll hate me!" Her voice grew both weaker and more hopeless as she spoke, and she punctuated the more important words with head thunks. 

  
  


Ron and Harry exchanged looks of such perfect and identical bewilderment that it would have been funny under any other circumstance. "We're not going to hate you!" said Ron. "We could never hate you."

  
  


"Is that right? I'll remember that when my parents are forcing you to sing carols in front of my *whole entire family*!" She put her face in her hands, wishing that the world would explode right there and then.

  
  


"I guarantee you that we will not hate you. And I think it sounds like fun; I've never had a real Christmas, you know." said Harry. If he thought this would reassure her, he was dead wrong.

  
  


"And now," she exploded, "you are going to get a completely messed up idea of what Christmas is supposed to be like. My parents will scar you for life!" 

  
  


Harry gave Ron a look that clearly said, "Help me out here, will you?" After thinking for a moment, Ron piped up.

  
  


"Hermione, you've met my mum, right? You know how she is about things like that. I'm sure that she's a hundred times worse than your parents!" He looked extremely apprehensive, as if he was afraid Hermione might cause him serious bodily harm for saying that. But he, like Harry, was dead wrong. 

"Really?" she said in a small voice, looking up at them for the first time since she had read the letter. "Is she that bad?"

  
  


"Worse. It's something like a whirlwind of decorations at out house. And the food... She cooks too much even for me to eat!" Ron said all of this very reassuringly, his tone soothing. "So don't worry, I'm one-hundred percent used to it. And who cares if Harry's traumatized? It's already too late to save him as it is!"

  
  


"Hey!" cried Harry indignantly, but no one paid him any attention. Hermione threw her arms around Ron's neck, and squeezed tight enough that his face took on a purple tinge. 

  
  


"Ok... Her-... Air?" he croaked, and Harry laughed silently at him behind Hermione's back. Hermione didn't notice. She released Ron and stood up, blushing red. 

  
  


"Thanks, you guys. And I'm sorry about all of this, my parents can be that way. I've got to go to Arithmancy, I'll see you later!" And she bolted from the room without looking back. 

  
  


Harry turned to Ron, who's face was still a little red. "Aw..." he said, in a sickenengly sweet voice.

  
  


"Oh shut up," said Ron, who was massaging his neck. "I didn't want her to get all hysterical. You've seen her cry, she was already bad enough without actual tears."

  
  


Harry laughed. "Seriously though," he said, as he buttered some toast, "that was really nice of you to tell Hermione that." 

  
  


"Was it convincing?" 

  
  


Harry gave him a look. "What do you mean, convincing? That was the truth, wasn't it?"

  
  


Ron stopped rubbing his neck and grinned, looking extremely proud. "Not a word of it."

  
  


~**~**~**~**~

_One week later..._

  
  


"All aboard!" 

  
  


The train station in Hogsmeade was very noisy, and almost bursting with people. Almost all of them were Hogwarts students, except for a few scattered teachers, who all looked very harassed. The job of keeping the waiting students in line had been most tiring, and they all breathed a sigh of relief at the conductors words. The students hurried onto the train and then they were off.

  
  


Harry, Ron, and Hermione were the only occupants of the last compartment, and they were using their last few hours with magic well. They played Exploding Snap, Gobstones, and practiced various charms on different things in the compartment, making clothes and cushions zoom around. But once the train neared its destination, Hermione sat down next to the window, staring blankly at the passing landscape, obviously worried no matter what Ron had told her. As they got closer and closer to King's Cross, she got jumpier and jumpier, and when the train began to slow down, her stomach began to flutter and jump nervously. 

  
  


The train screeched to a halt, and both Ron and Harry jumped up quickly. Harry was excited to have a real Christmas, and Ron was looking forward to seeing how Muggles lived. Hermione couldn't say that she shared any bit of their enthusiasm. 

  
  


After struggling with the trunks and getting carts, they crossed the barrier. After scanning the crowd, Hermione turned to the other two, and with a look of resignation on her face, said, "Here they come."

  
  


~**~**~**~**~ 

  
  


I know, I know, not the most action-packed chapter, huh? Well, that's too bad. It's too late to change it now, and I wouldn't even if I could. So there. 

  
  


By the way, would anyone like to beta-read for me? I have one, (love ya, Lisa!) but I'd like at least two altogether. And three? Three would be awesome. I'll take the first two people who offer and leave their e-mail, and anyone else who I happen to just particularly like. (Yes yes, bribe them into leaving a review, that'll work... Bru-ha!)

  
  


On the next episode of Flying Without Wings, we find out exactly what Harry and Ron are in for! See ya at the movies!


	3. Christmaspalooza

Disclaimer: Didn't ya get it the first two times? Why do people even write these things? It's not like there's some kind of Disclaimer police out there. Oops, I've angered the law-men! Everything is mine, except for the characters and the general background plot. Those are... can you guess? J.K. Rowling's, you say? Also, the name Squirt belongs to my father, who insists on calling me that in front of all of my friends. I would say it belongs to me, except I don't want to claim it. Only-Child Syndrome belongs to Ron, and the cars belongs to.... well, one belongs to Mr. Granger, and the other used to belong to Mr. Weasley, and it now belongs to the Forbidden Forest. Ford can belong to itself.

  
  


I got some great reviews! Gin- you go girl! Listen to that soundtrack. Arabella- but of course www.sugarquill.com can look at it, I love the site!! Everyone, go there!! Now! You guys wouldn't believe that Happy Dances I did when I saw that two of my favorite authors, Arabella and Zsenya, read, reviewed, and actually said they liked my story! Eek! TigerFairy- sure, use it at the site, I can't wait for it to be up! Goddess.... what can I say to the person who left me the nicest review? That was 100% sweet, and thank you so much. To everyone else, thank you soooo much. I feel all warm inside! I tried to e-mail everyone who left their address, but if I didn't, don't hate me! I'm sorry! 

  
  


Dedicated to The Great Crumbum and The One and Only Pineapple. You'ze guys are the best! Do you smell bacon, Crumbum? Hey Pineapple- Tch! You sparkplug! It's not like they'll even read this, seeing as how neither of them read Harry Potter... *gasp!* The horror, the horror! 

  
  
  
  


~**~**~**~**~

  
  


Hermione lugged her trunk up onto her bed and threw it open, unpacking her things as she cried. 

  
  


When she had read the letter from her parents, she had been more than a little apprehensive to go home for Christmas. Especially since she had to bring Ron and Harry with her. She had imagined that it would be bad. She had imagined that her parents would completely and utterly humiliate her, and that Harry and Ron would be traumatized, and that they would never speak to her again. 

  
  


The problem with that, however, was that she hadn't been thinking bad enough.

  
  


Everything had started out alright. Her parents had been there on the other side of Platform 9 3/4 waiting for them, and they had looked normal. They were both wearing red and green, but that was alright. From a distance, they still looked relatively normal. 

  
  


_'And then,'_ Hermione thought bitterly, _'we just had to go and talk to them.'_

  
  
  
  


:::wavy lines. (That's code for flashback, folks):::

  
  


"Little Squirt!" cried Mr. Granger when he saw Hermione, and he ran to embrace her. Tall, muscular, and with straight brown hair, he closed the distance between them quickly.

  
  


Mrs. Granger was right on his heels. Medium-sized and with blond, curly hair, she very much resembled Narcissa Malfoy, minus the snooty sneer. 

  
  


From where Harry was standing, he could see the must-humor-the-parents smile on Hermione's face, and she glanced over her shoulder at him and Ron right before she was swallowed up in arms, her face with a Help Me! expression on it.

  
  


First, Mr. Granger picked Hermione up under the arms and swung her in a wide arc, her face already beginning to burn. Her legs hit the hip of a woman who was walking by, but the Grangers, minus Hermione, didn't notice. Hermione managed a quick apology before Mrs. Granger was on her. Hermione's mother squeezed her hard enough to make her gasp, and kissed both her cheeks. The woman that Hermione had hit stomped away muttering about rowdy family reunions.

  
  


Harry looked over at Ron and saw that he was trying desperately not to laugh. Harry thought that he must have looked a little miffed, because Ron leaned over and whispered in his ear, "They've got Only-Child Syndrome." He sounded so much like a doctor giving some kind of fatal diagnosis that Harry had to fight to keep in the laughs as well.

  
  


When Mrs. Granger finally released Hermione, Mr. and Mrs. Granger turned to Harry and Ron.

  
  


Mr. Granger strode over, and grabbed Harry's hand with such force that he was sure he felt something snap. "Jolly good to meet you, Hermione's told us so much!" As he said this, he pumped Harry's hand up and down, making Harry's whole arm shake. 

  
  
  
  


"Harry Potter," he managed, and thankfully,Mr. Granger let go of his hand. Mr. Granger then moved on to Ron and gave him the same treatment. Meanwhile, Mrs. Granger went up to Harry and kissed his cheek, and then did the same to Ron after Mr. Granger was through with him. Hermione just stood in the background, blushing madly and mouthing the words 'I'm sorry' over and over.

  
  


Mr. and Mrs. Granger ran off to bring the car around, and Harry and Ron looked at Hermione. She however, was not looking at either of them. Hermione was staring down at the ground, her head bent downward, her hair obscuring her face. Her ears were quite visible though, and they were bright red. The boys stared at her, and eventually, she spoke.

  
  


"I am so sorry."

  
  


~**~**~**~**~

  
  


The ride home from the station had been even worse. 

  
  


Mr. Granger pulled the car around to the front of the station, and then hopped out to help with the trunks. Everyone piled into the car, and they were off. 

  
  


Ron stared around, admiring everything. He'd only been in one car before, and his father's old Ford Anglia had been nothing compared to this. Mr. Granger noticed him looking around in the rearview mirror.

  
  


"Do you like it? It's American, but it's still a nice car. Have you ever been in one?"

  
  


"Yes," answered Ron. "Dad used to have an old Ford Anglia."

  
  


"Really?" said Mr. Granger. "This is a Ford too. A Ranger, to be exact. The good old Granger Ranger!"

  
  


A light groan from the backseat told Harry and Ron that Hermione had definitely heard that one before. "How about we show Ron the radio, Dad?" she said with faked cheerfulness.

  
  


"Smashing idea, pumpkin." He reached for the radio nob, but Mrs. Granger grabbed his wrist.

  
  


"Sweetie, don't you think we should listen to something more seasonal? Christmas is in three days, after all," said Mrs. Granger.

  
  


"Oh, no, I don't think that-" began Hermione, but Mr. Granger had already popped a small cassette into the player. Peppy, upbeat Christmas carols began to pour from the speakers. And if that wasn't bad enough-

  
  


"Jingle bells, jingle bells, jingle all the way!" sang Mr. an d Mrs. Granger merrily. "Come on kids, sing along!" commanded Mrs. Granger. 

  
  


Needless to say, none of them joined in. 

  
  


~**~**~**~**~

  
  


The drive from the station had never been longer for Hermione. The Grangers lived a good thirty minutes from London, and with her mother and father not lowering their voices a decibel the whole ride it was quite a long trip. 

  
  


Finally, out in the snowcapped countryside, Mr. Granger pulled onto a long and winding driveway. At the end of the driveway sat a house. The house was covered in every kind of light and decoration imaginable. There was a nativity scene on the front yard, which was next to a large electric elf who was bowing up and down. Hanging icicle lights dangled from every available surface. There were tall plastic candycanes on both sides of the front walk, and a huge evergreen wreath on the door. And to top off this Winter Wonderland, the crown of glory; a huge statuette of Santa and his reindeer was perched on the roof, illuminated by strategically placed spotlights. 

  
  


Harry and Ron exited the car with looks of wonder and astonishment, both staring fixedly at the house. Hermione exited the car with a look of contempt and disgust. Her parents wore looks of pride.

  
  


"Isn't it great?" asked Mr. Granger. 

  
  


"Isn't it pathetic?" whispered Hermione so that only Harry and Ron could hear her. "The inside is worse."

  
  


She was, at least to her opinion, right. They all tromped inside, Mr. Granger explaining to Ron how the lights worked. The foyer looked normal, and Harry wondered what Hermione was talking about. But then, they entered the rest of the house, and he saw. 

  
  


The halls were decked with the traditional boughs of holly, and garlands of every color were entwined around the stair banisters. The living room was stuffed with small figurines and doodads, and a large tree stood proudly in front of the windows. It was bedecked with twinkling lights, strands of popcorn and cranberries, ornaments, and on the top was a silvery star. The kitchen was adorned with everything from strings of ivy down to little Christmasy magnets on the refrigerator. 

  
  


Mrs. Granger insisted on serving milk and cookies in the kitchen, so everyone sat down and ate cut-outs in various shapes and with colorful sprinkles. Hermione bolted hers down as quickly as possible, and shot Ron and Harry looks that said they had better do the same. So they wolfed the cookies down, and Hermione rushed them out of the kitchen and up the stairs to the bedrooms.

  
  


She shoved them into the guest bedroom and shut the door behind her, leaning against it as if to block out any stray parents that may have tried to follow them. Harry and Ron were looking at her, and she could tell that they were trying very hard not to laugh. 

  
  


"Fine, go ahead," she said, and they both exploded with laughter, holding their sides and leaning against each other for support. She watched them with one eyebrow raised, and when the laughter had subsided a bit, she said, "are you two quite finished?" She was obviously angry; her voice seemed to almost tremble with it.

  
  


Harry and Ron looked at each other, which was not a smart idea. They both burst out laughing again. 

  
  


"Fine. You two go ahead and laugh, I'm going to go unpack." And Hermione flounced from the room in anger.

  
  


Harry and Ron abruptly stopped laughing. "I think she's mad," said Harry.

  
  


"Well, thank you Captain Obvious," said Ron, rolling his eyes. "That was really smart of us; get Hermione mad at us when we're staying at her house."

  
  


"We should go apologize..." said Harry, trailing off. He looked at Ron and saw that his friend was just about as eager to do that as he was. 

  
  


"Maybe we should wait for her to cool off a bit," suggested Ron.

  
  


"That might be wise."

  
  


:::wavy lines (that's the end of the flashback!):::

  
  


Hermione slammed her now empty trunk shut and crammed it into her closet. She flopped down on her bed and stared at the ceiling angrily. How could they laugh at her like that? Didn't they realize that she already felt badly enough? 

  
  


She lay there stewing for quite a while. Finally she sighed and sat up. 'No good just sitting here getting more angry,' she thought. 'I've got to do something.' She selected her favorite book from one of the many shelves lining her walls, but even it couldn't keep her concentration. She needed to do something a bit more physical.

  
  


She looked around the room for ideas, and her eyes fell on a shoebox under her desk. 'My ice skates,' she thought. Ice skating was just what she needed. She glanced out the window, and saw with a sinking heart that it was already dark. She looked back at her ice skates longingly, and thought at them, 'Tomorrow.' 

  
  


~**~**~**~**~

  
  
  
  


BUM BUM BUM!! So, how was that? I don't really think that Hermione's parents are quite so dorky. Just call it that infectious Christmas spirit. By the way, her favorite book? It is NOT "Hogwarts, a History". It's either "The Giver" by Lois Lowry, or "Jonathon Livingston Seagull" by Richard Bach. I'm not quite sure. 

  
  


Everyone who hasn't already- go read "A Muggle Summer," by Zsenya. It's awesome! I have a feeling that a lot of what is coming up in my story may be very similar to what happened in Z's. I didn't mean for that to happen, it just sorta did. (Never mind. I changed my story, so now it's more different. But go read her anyway!!) 

  
  


While we're on the topic of other people's fics, here's a few more helpful hints: "Paradigm of Uncertainty," (and its sequel) by Lori, "Draco Dormiens" by Cassandra Claire (as well as its sequel), anything by Princess Kate or Arabella or Pigwidgeon or Mrs Weasley... The list goes on. If you want anymore, e-mail me at [llamachic8@aol.com.][1]

  
  


By the way, more Disclaimers- all Christmas decorations belong to the Grangers, although Hermione might try to deny it. Jingle Bells... can belong to Harry, since he doesn't own anything yet. *Thanks!* You're welcome, Harry! And Crumbum and Pineapple belong to themselves, mostly because no one else wants them. Sorry dudes, but it's true. 

  
  


Well, that's all for now! Review if you want, just hit Back on your browser if you don't. Whatever! Cya next time!!

   [1]: mailto:llamachic8@aol.com.



	4. Ice Skating Folleys

Disclaimer: Yeah yeah, you know the drill. The characters belong to her, the measly little plot belongs to me. It might not be much, but it's all I need. Just try to take it from me. Just try. I got the "just try" deal from somewheres too. I forget exactly. So I guess that's not mine either. Ron's tummy muscles *definitely* belong to me, and some genius owns pillows. They're a pretty good invention. Ice skating belongs to Nancy Kerrigan, I think.

  
  


Wow, big pause, huh? I'm sooooorry... I went on a mad writing jag, though... I have through part five done, and I thnk I can finish part 6 tonight, and part 7, 8, and 9 after that. Major writer's block took me over, it was horrible. But I'm back, and I'll post more quickly... Gotta love those four day weekends.

  
  


I've decided. Hermione's favorite book? Jonathon Livingston Seagull. No one said that they've even read it, and that depresses me. Very much. Also, I just want to be an instagator, so I'm going to go against everyone and say Jonathon.

  
  


Zsenya- my dad is the same way. He's always threatening to call me Daddy's Little Princess in front of my friends... EEK!! To everyone who asked- it's my house I'm describing, right down to the magnets on the fridge. Someone said that when we met them in the books, Hermione's parents didn't seem like deranged dentists... We met them once, and didn't get physical discriptions or personalities, so I made them up. Ok, that's enough. 

  
  


-----------------------------------

  
  


_Everybody's looking for that something,_

_the one thing that makes it all complete._

_You'll find it in the strangest places--_

_places you never knew it could be._

  
  


_-Westlife "Flying Without Wings"_

  
  


----------------------------------- 

  
  
  
  


Hermione woke up very early the next morning, when the dawn was just beginning to streak across the sky. She quickly shut off her alarm clock and dressed as quietly as possible; she didn't want anyone to know where she was going. She grabbed her skates and slung them over her shoulder, the gesture old and familiar. 

  
  


She trooped downstairs and out the back door, and began to make her way through the snow to the lake behind her house. Once she got there, she sat on a log and removed her shoes. A sudden sense of deja-vu came over her, and she remembered that crazy dream she had. She looked over her shoulder cautiously, expecting a man to be standing there, and then she mentally kicked herself._ 'Be sensible,'_ she reminded herself, and she forced her gaze back down to her feet. 

  
  


Once her shoes were off she slipped on her skates. They were a little snug, but they would do for a few quick turns on the ice. She laced them up, and stepped onto the ice for the first time in four years.

  
  


She slid out first one foot, and then the other, a little apprehensively at first. But the old rhythm was still there, and she found it with no trouble. She glided across the lake, being careful to stay only where she was sure it was thick enough to support her weight. Once she was certain that she hadn't forgotten the basics, she easily shifted her weight and did a little half turn so that she was moving in reverse. Her skates swooshed across the ice as she flipped back to normal and picked up speed, skating a figure eight and then moving on one foot. She did a small turn, and it made her want to do something very stupid. She took a deep breath, trying to work up the nerve. No, she couldn't. It was too risky. She had just gotten on the ice ten minutes ago, and she wanted to try a jump? Not to mention that she hadn't done one in years; she would probably break a leg. Or her neck. So no, she would keep to the simple stuff. 

  
  


But as she did another turn, her body stopped listening to common sense. She dug one toe into the ice and leaped, spinning twice before she landed again, one leg straight out behind her. The move was just as natural as it had been four years ago. A broad grin spread across her face and she had to try it again. And again. And now a tight spin, fast and dizzying. It had always been the hardest for her, not because it was a terribly difficult move but because she always lost her balance after all that crazy spinning. So she attempted it now with caution, and only did half of it. But that was alright, she could jump. She could still fly, and nothing else mattered in the world.

  
  


~**~**~**~**~

  
  


Two hours later, Hermione tromped back up through the snow to the house. Her ankles were killing her and she was shivering with cold, but she didn't care. She had skinned her knee when she fell after a particularly zealous attempt at a jump, but she didn't care. It had been so good to skate again that she hardly even noticed the cold or the pain. She hadn't known just how much she missed it until that morning, and she resolved to skate more than once every four years. 

  
  


Her mother was already up, puttering around the kitchen making breakfast. "Morning, sunshine," said Mrs. Granger. "Have a nice skate?"

  
  


"Yeah, actually I did," said Hermione with a grin. "It was great to be back on the ice. And- Wait, how did you know?"

  
  


"I assumed that you didn't just take those skates with you out for a walk. And I could see you out the window," said Mrs. Granger. "Besides, you've got that look on your face."

  
  


"What look?"

  
  


"The look you get after you read a really good book, or go ice skating," said her mother, grinning at her.

  
  


In spite of herself, Hermione smiled a little sheepishly. "It was nice to do it again... Skates were a bit tight though..." She trailed off, reveling in the last little bit of left-over rush. She gave her head a little shake to clear her mind. "Do you want help with breakfast, Mum?"

  
  


"It's pretty close to being done already. You can go wake up your friends, though, so they don't miss the food."

  
  


"Alright," said Hermione, her good mood fading a bit at the thought of facing Harry and Ron so soon. Nevertheless, she climbed the staircase and knocked lightly on the door to the guestroom. When no one answered she creaked it open and peeked inside.

  
  


Her gaze first fell on Harry, who was sprawled on the floor, face down on his pillow. Only the top of his head was visible beneath the blankets, and his hair looked even darker than usual against the white pillow case.

  
  


Then she looked at Ron, who was stretched out on the bed. He was laying face up, and the blankets had worked down to his waist. The top of his paisley pajamas had hiked up a little bit, and his stomach was visible. _'Looks like someone's been working out,'_ thought Hermione, and instantly clapped her hands over her mouth to prevent the giggles from escaping. She stretched out an arm to shake him awake, but stopped mid-stretch. He just looked so peaceful... And with his face all relaxed, and his hair all messy, he looked extremely cute. A little half-smile was on his face. She wondered what he was dreaming about.

  
  


And then she wondered if maybe she had spent a little too much time out in the cold. What was she doing, standing there thinking about how adorable he looked? Was she crazy? She shot her arm out and practically smacked him awake. 

  
  


Ron jerked upright with a little gasp, looking panicked. His gaze traveled wildly around the room until it fell on her, and for one moment his azure eyes were completely naked and revealing. _'He was dreaming about me,'_ she thought fleetingly, not knowing how she knew but knowing it all the same. Then he blinked and the familiar shroud went over his eyes, and she breathed a sigh of relief. She didn't like knowing what he was thinking, even if it was about her. Something about the way Ron was looking at her told her that maybe he knew he had revealed something.

  
  


He looked away and ran a hand through his hair, and Hermione suddenly realized that her hair probably wasn't looking its best either. Cold air did weird things to her hair, not to mention the spinning probably hadn't helped much. She reached up and tried to smooth it down, making the gesture as natural as possible.

  
  


Once she trusted her voice, she said, "My mum wanted me to wake you guys up. For breakfast."

  
  


"Yeah? What time is it?" asked Ron, looking anywhere except at Hermione. 

  
  


She glanced at her watch. "It's about nine-thirty."

  
  


"Oh." He looked down at Harry. "Aren't you going to punch him awake too?"

  
  


She scowled at him. "I think I'm entitled to do a little punching after last night."

  
  


He looked suddenly sheepish. "Yeah, about that... Me and Harry talked about it, and we're really sorry we laughed."

  
  


Hermione was taken aback. She reached out an arm, causing Ron to flinch, but she didn't hit him. She laid her hand across his forehead. "I don't think you have a fever..." 

  
  


He smacked her hand away, grinning. "So I apologized a bit fast. 'Tis the season, and all that."

  
  


She grinned back at him, thinking that maybe she had the fever; she couldn't remember the last time she'd accepted an apology from him so quickly. But at the moment she didn't care; it felt nice just to be on good terms with him again.

  
  


Ron grabbed his pillow and tossed it at Harry, who had continued to sleep peacefully through the whole conversation. It bounced off his head and he jumped up to a sitting position. He saw Hermione, trying not to laugh, and Ron, trying to look innocent, and he grabbed up the pillow that had hit him and chucked it in the general direction of Ron, but as he was still partially laying down, his aim was quite a bit off. The pillow instead hit Hermione in the face, and when Ron burst out laughing she took her turn with the pillow; she was only a few feet away from him, and her aim was good. He seized his pillow back up and looked at Harry; Harry grabbed his own pillow and looked at him; they both turned to Hermione with evil grins.

  
  


She instantly saw what they were smiling about. "Oh no, come on guys, that's not fair, I don't have ammunition, don't you dare-" But they were already on her, and an all out pillow war commenced.

  
  


It was quite a while before they got down to breakfast.

  
  


~**~**~**~**~

  
  
  
  


So, mama like, mama like? Does anyone who is reading this ice skate? Because I want to get a little more technical in my descriptions, and I'm gonna need names of some actual moves pretty soon. You'll all see why! Unless they're technical enough already, feedback would be nice. 

And is it completely off the wall that Hermione is a good ice skater? I'm a believer that everyone has at least one special talent, and school just doesn't count. So for the purposes of this story, I gave her the ability to ice skate. It was gonna be snow-mobiling, be thankful.

See the box? Well, leave me a flame. Yup, go ahead. I'm gonna need the flames later in my story, and if you leave me some, then I won't have to buy them. Because store-bought flames are really no match for the home-cooked ones. So go ahead, do me a big favor and leave me a flame!


	5. Bum Legs and Blue Skies

Disclaimer: Well, here we are again. It's a vicious cycle, huh? Yup, yup, it's not mine. It's hers. You know who I'm talking about. Band-Aids belong to some company, 3M Innovations, or Johnson and Johnson, something like that. The Band-Aid scene is from the wonderful movie "Blast From the Past", with my honey Brendon Fraiser, who is second only to the totally steamy Ben Afleck, who is second only to the fantasmical Ron Weasley! The paper towel belongs to Bounty, because they're the quilted quicker picker-upper. Slaves don't belong to anybody, because that's illegal. And pancakes? Oh yeah, those are mine.

  
  


By the way-diddly-ay, I've decided to be a major pain. Popular vote for Hermione's favorite book (in fact, all the votes) is The Giver. Well, just to be evil, I've decided that it is Jonathon Livingston Seagull. Is it just that none of you have read this fantastic book, or that none of you liked it? Well???? 

  
  


Dedicated to.... Liz. She bullied me into posting, so it can be hers! 

  
  


~**~**~**~**~

  
  


By the time Harry, Ron, and Hermione had gotten downstairs, Mr. and Mrs. Granger were already sitting down and waiting for them. They all took seats and dished out eggs, pancakes, and juice.

  
  


After a few minutes of quite eating, Mr. Granger spoke. "So what are the plans for today, kids?"

  
  


Hermione, Ron, and Harry looked at each other. Plans? Who needed plans? 

  
  


"I don't know, Dad. We'll just... hang out, I guess," said Hermione.

  
  


"Well, if you're just going to 'hang out', as you put it, then you can help me with the driveway."

  
  


Hermione groaned. "Oh Dad, please, don't make us, Harry and Ron really shouldn't have to-"

  
  


Mr. Granger held up his hands. "Nope, you dug your own grave on that one. Since you have no other plans, you will shovel the driveway." 

  
  


Hermione stopped arguing, knowing that it wouldn't do much good and not wanting to provoke her father into giving them even more chores. Ron looked confused. 

  
  


"Shovel the driveway?" he asked. 

  
  


"He means use a shovel to scoop the snow that's on the driveway to someplace else, so that cars can move on the driveway," explained Hermione, glaring at her father. "And in case you didn't notice yesterday, it is a _huge_ driveway."

  
  


"Oh, quit your whining," said Mr. Granger, standing up to get more coffee. "I've had to do it for three years; it won't kill you to do it once. There's only a few inches. And with three of you it will be done in no time." He and Mrs. Granger stood up.

  
  


"We've got a bit of last minute shopping to do, so we're going into town. Do you kids need anything?" asked Mrs. Granger.

  
  


Both Harry and Ron said that they were fine, and Hermione just shook her head as she scowled down at her eggs. 

  
  


"Alright, we'll see you in a bit," said Mrs. Granger. They both exited the kitchen, and a few minutes later the front door opened and shut. Hermione stood up and began to gather dishes.

  
  


"You'd think," she grumbled, "that since they're making us do the driveway, they'd at least stay long enough to help with dishes." 

  
  
  
  


"What happened?" Ron asked suddenly.

  
  


"What?" she said, confused. She saw that he was looking at her knees. She looked down, and saw that one of the knees of her jeans was a little bloody. She could vaguely remember taking a spill on the ice. "I fell-" she began, and then paused. She didn't know why, but she didn't want to tell Ron and Harry that she ice skated. "I fell... on the stairs," she finished, saying the first thing that came to her mind. 

  
  


"Are you ok?" asked Ron, his forehead creased with concern. 

  
  


"Um..." Now that she was thinking about it, her knee actually hurt quite a lot. "It hurts a little. I mean, it's not bad, or anything, I can live with it."

  
  


Ron grabbed her elbow and led her to a chair. "Ron, what are you doing?" she said, most astonished.

  
  


"We can't have you hobbling around with a bum knee. Now sit down, I'm going to fix it. Harry, go get my wand. I mean, I'm practically an expert at Healing Spells, what with my mum-"

  
  


"Ron, there's no magic on the holidays," Harry reminded him, sounding amused. 

  
  


"Oh," Ron said, looking downcast. "Well, what do Muggles do if they get hurt?" 

  
  


"Band-Aids?" suggested Harry.

  
  


"Ok, go get me a... whatever you just said," Ron commanded. "Where are those... whatchamacallits, Hermione?"

  
  


"Upstairs bathroom, medicine cabinet," she said faintly. She'd never seen Ron like this, so in control. 

  
  


She sat in the chair that Ron pulled out for her as Harry left to get the bandages. Ron kneeled down in front of her and removed her shoe. "Whoo!" he said, waving his hand in front of his nose. Hermione glared at him. "Only kidding, only kidding," he said hastily. He rolled up her pant leg and examined her wound. "You did yourself a good one," he said softly. There was a red, raw looking scrape across the greater portion of her knee, and the skin surrounding it was black and blue. 

  
  


He stood up and got a paper towel, wetting it in the sink before coming back to sit in front of Hermione. He carefully patted her knee with the towel. She sucked in air through her teeth at the sting. He looked at her from under his lowered brow. "Sorry," he said, and he truly sounded it. He looked back down at her knee. He removed the cloth and leaned his head toward her injury.

  
  


For a fleeting instant she thought that Ron was going to kiss it, like her mother used to do whenever she got hurt. But instead he blew on it. The pain lessened a little and was replaced by a different type of tingle, one that Hermione couldn't identify.

  
  


A sudden noise on the stairs told them that Harry had found the bandages. Ron jerked back from her knee and stood up quickly before Harry entered. 

  
  


Harry was carrying a small box, which Hermione assumed must have the Band-Aids in it. "Here," he said, holding one out to Ron.

  
  


Ron looked at it. "What am I supposed to do with that?" he asked, looking bewildered. His cheeks were a little red, and he was staring very fixedly at Harry.

  
  


"That's the Band-Aid." When Ron continued to stare mistrustfully at the Band-Aid, Harry sighed. "Fine, I'll do it." He smoothed the Band-Aid onto Hermione's scrape, and Hermione couldn't help but notice that he wasn't being half as gentle as Ron had been.

  
  


~**~**~**~**~

  
  


Forty five minutes later they were all outside and heaving shovelfuls of snow over their shoulders. The driveway was almost finished. Ron seemed to be enjoying using the Muggle-method of snow removal, and he flung the snow with great enthusiasm. Harry had a practiced method after years of winters with the Dursleys, and Hermione had sunk into a sort of trance. Scoop, hoist, fling, repeat. Scoop, hoist, fling, repeat. A sudden gust of wind blew her hat off and into the yard, and she went to retrieve it. 

  
  


As she bent over to pick up her hat, a mass of snow exploded all over her back, sliding down the back of her coat and soaking her jeans. She shrieked and whipped around, and Harry and Ron both looked at her. "Who did that?" she yelled. Harry put on an innocent face, and Ron looked genuinely bewildered.

  
  


"Did what?" asked Ron.. Hermione took this as an admission of guilt. She grabbed a handful of snow and chucked it at Ron. He tried to duck and slipped on a patch of ice. He fell down, and Hermione took advantage of it and threw another snowball, which hit him right in the chest.

  
  


"What was that for?" shouted Ron indignantly from the ground.

  
  


"You threw snow on me, I throw snow at you!" 

  
  


"You're off your rocker," fumed Ron. "I did no such thing."

  
  


"You and Harry are the only ones here, and he didn't..." she trailed off, turning to Harry. He tried his best not to grin but couldn't help it. 

  
  


Ron got up off of the ground and walked to Harry. "I must say, that was terrific," he said, reaching out as if to give Harry a high five. "Good show-" And he crammed a handful of snow down the back of Harry's shirt.

  
  


Hermione collapsed to the ground with giggles as Ron stood back and watched Harry twist and shake. He shook the snow out of his shirt with as much dignity as possible and then jumped on Ron, knocking him into the snow. They wrestled and fought, shoving snow at each other and pushing each other down. (A/N- All playful, all playful! Just guys doing the "must be macho" routine.)

  
  


"Boys, boys..." said Hermione. "As much as I enjoy watching you tussle, we need to finish the driveway before my parents get home. So knock it off and get back to work."

  
  


The boys stood up, grumbling. "Pushy slave driver," muttered Ron.

  
  


"I heard that."

  
  


The boys picked up their shovels and returned to scooping, but Hermione stayed where she was. She laid down and made a snow angel, staring at the sky. The cloudless blue seemed to stretch on forever in all directions, and she was briefly mesmerized.

  
  


"Aren't you coming, Mistress?" said Ron's voice from next to her. She jumped, and sat up.

  
  


"Yeah, yeah, I suppose," she said. Ron stretched out an arm, and she took his hand to help herself up. But he apparently didn't have very good balance, because when Hermione tried to pull herself to a standing position, he toppled headfirst into the snow beside her. She fell back down laughing. He gave her a look but started laughing too. He rolled over onto his back and looked upward.

  
  


"What were you looking at before?"

  
  


"The sky," she answered, looking at it again.

  
  


"Why?"

  
  
  
  


"I dunno. It's just so... So huge, you know?" she said before she could stop herself. She instantly felt stupid. _'Of course it's big,'_ she thought. _'It's the sky.'_

  
  


She was about to get up and leave, when Ron said, "Yeah, I know what you mean." She glanced at him, thinking that he was making fun of her, but he was still looking up. He looked as if he was thinking deeply about something. "Like how it seems to go up forever when it's like this? It makes you feel awfully small, doesn't it?"

  
  


"Yeah," she said, a little surprised. That was exactly what she had been thinking; she never would have thought that Ron, of all people, had seen it the same way. They were silent for a few moments, and then Ron sat up. "Harry's probably wondering where we are," he said, standing as he spoke.

  
  


Hermione stood up too. "Actually," she said, brushing snow off of her coat, "where is he?"

  
  


"Bathroom. There was only a little bit of driveway left, and I told him I would finish it so that he wouldn't need to come back outside."

  
  


"That was pleasant of you. Such the perfect gentleman," said Hermione as they walked towards the house. 

  
  


"Yeah, well, I'm a nice kind of guy."

  
  


"Sure!" she said, and ducked as he tossed a snowball her direction. She shrieked and ran to the house, Ron chasing her the whole way.

~**~**~**~**~

  
  


Aww... Isn't Ron the sweetest little thing? As I was writing that scene (you know, the Band-Aid one), I thought that he might be out of character (OOC). But as my beta-reader Lisa pointed out, Ron is Mrs. Weasley's child. You can tell, she's totally one of those moms who gasp and exclaim over little cuts and whatnot, so it's only natural that Ron is that way too- he grew up with it. I could see all the Weasley children doing that, maybe even Percy. And anyway... That's the point of fanfic! You can write totally weird and crazy OOC things, and no one can stop you! So bah humbug, I'll make him OOC if I want to! And you will read it, and like it too! (Sorry, long story behind that last line there... my dad is such a meanie!) Hey kids, this is Lightning, babbling on. Someone, duck tape her shut, stat!

  
  


Mmf! Mmmf! :::waves hand:::


	6. Sugar and Spice Meet Holly Wreathes and ...

Disclaimer: Okay, it's not mine, it's all hers. The design of Hermione's bedroom belongs to my friend Kris, and even though I have her permission to use it, I still want to add it in here. Not that it matters, she won't ever read this... Anyway. And that's all I got to say 'bout that.

  
  


Anyway. I'm so sorry this has taken so long. I was suffering from extreme blockage of the writing arteries, and I needed to go away to Fiji for a few weeks to receive treatment. So it really wasn't my fault. I mean, Fiji is pretty tropical, and more than a little remote, so there weren't any computers around. Ah, what I go through for the readers... It was truly horrible. One can only take so much of the tanning on a deserted beach thing for so long, right? 

  
  


By the way, drop me a line sometime, will you? E-mail, Instant Message, whatever. I'd love to talk to you, especially if you have helpful suggestions. I need them!

  
  


B Bennett left a review saying that in the last chapter, the POV switched around a little unexpectedly. Thanks a bunch, B, I went back and fixed it! See, reviews like that are what we writers need!

  
  


Dedicated to Melanie, for kind words and even kinder criticism. Without you, I wouldn't have had the confidence to do what I did, and even though you'll never read this, I just want to say that I love you. Even after all of the current history with You-Know-Who, I still do. TigerZebra for always, and never forget the crackling toast. Or I'll kill you. ;)

  
  


~**~**~**~**~

_Christmas morning..._

  
  


Harry woke up on Christmas morning with anticipation in his stomach. As this was only his fifth time dealing with this feeling, it was still a little new and unusual. 

  
  


Ron, already up, was sitting propped against a wall, an open book in his lap. Harry rubbed at his eyes, but the image didn't go away.

  
  


"Who are you?" he said in a voice that contained more than a little suspicion. "And what have you done with Ron Weasley?"

  
  


Ron looked up, startled from the book. He was uncomprehending for a moment, but then looked down at the book in his hands. "Very funny," he said, rolling his eyes. "You slay me with your incredible wit sometimes, Harry. Merry Christmas to you too." Ron paused, throwing him a sidelong glance as Harry stretched. "I can read, you know."

  
  


"Of course you can read," said Harry, "I've just never actually... seen you at it."

  
  


"Ha. Ha, ha. And also, ha."

  
  


Harry raised an eyebrow. "Where did you get a book from, anyway? Don't tell me you brought it from school."

  
  


"Harry, Hermione lives in this house. There are enough books around here to fill a library." Ron tossed the book aside and stood up from the floor, where he'd been sitting, leaning against a wall. "Besides, it's kind of fun to read a Muggle book."

  
  


"Ron Weasley, saying that reading a book is fun... I never thought I'd see the day!" 

  
  


"I'm sorry to have to say this, but you sound like Hermione." Ron looked at his watch. "It's... eight thirty. We should go wake her up, don't you think?"

  
  


Harry and Ron walked the short distance down the hallway to Hermione's bedroom door. Once there, they stopped and looked at each other awkwardly. They hadn't been in her room yet. They'd never even been in the girl's dormitory at school. 

  
  


"What should we do?" whispered Harry.

  
  


"What do you mean, what should we do? Knock, you git," Ron whispered back.

  
  


"Why do I have to knock? You knock!"

  
  


After a few more moments in which both of them did a lot of sullen glaring and uncomfortable shifting, Ron raised his hand and lightly rapped on the door with his knuckles a few times. 

  
  


"Who is it?" asked a muffled voice from inside.

  
  


Ron cleared his throat. "Can me and Harry come in?"

  
  


"'Harry and I,' Ron."

  
  


"That's what I said."

  
  


"Come in."

  
  


Harry and Ron exchanged a last look, and Ron pushed the door open.

  
  


The room was decorated in varying shades of purple. The walls and ceiling were a light lavender color, and the curtains and bed sheets matched, both covered in a print of white and purple flowers. The carpet, a pleasant cream white, covered the ground beneath polished furniture made from a pale wood. The bright morning sunlight streaming in through the window made everything in the room appear to glow. The entire room was spotless, and Harry observed without much surprise that an extremely large bookcase lined one of the walls. He also noticed Hermione's program from the Quidditch World Cup pinned to the wall next to a scarlet flag with the Gryffindor lion emblazoned upon it. As Harry watched, the lion let out a snore.

  
  


Hermione was lying on her bed, propped up against the headboard with a book in her lap. She was wearing her pajamas and bathrobe. 

  
  


"Hi. I was just reading," said Hermione, holding up the book.

  
  


"What is it about this place? Is there something in the water?" wondered Harry aloud.

  
  


"What are you talking about?"

  
  


"Nothing," said Ron, "he's talking about nothing. Merry Christmas."

  
  


"Merry Christmas," said Hermione. "I'll go wake up my parents."

  
  


~**~**~**~**~

  
  


It wasn't much later that the three of them were gathered on the floor in front of the tree while Hermione's parents watched from the couch. Something about the idea of opening presents had transformed all three of them into what resembled overgrown four year olds, and they were all ripping wrapping paper from their gifts with zest. 

  
  


"Thanks, Harry!" said Hermione, holding up her new REO Speedwagon CD for her parents to see. "I've always liked this band."

  
  


"Welcome. I was going to give it to you for your birthday, but then you wouldn't have been able to listen to it." (A/N- she was at Hogwarts, remember? See end for REO explanation!)

  
  


Hermione opened her gift from Ron next. It was a book- Being a Prefect Isn't so Bad! She rolled her eyes when she saw the title. "Thanks a million, Ron." 

  
  


"Don't mention it." He looked at her in mid-unwrap and grinned. "Of course, I had to sacrifice my moral beliefs to buy it, but I just kept telling myself that it was for you. The things I do for friendship," he said sarcastically but without malice. She watched Ron unwrap her gift to him. "Cool, thanks!" he said, pulling his new Chudley Cannon's sweatshirt over his head. 

  
  


"I bewitched it so that if any Muggle looks at it, they see "Disneyland, USA," she informed him, reaching for the last gift under the tree, which was addressed to her from her parents. 

  
  


"What's a Disneyland?"

  
  


"A place where Muggles go to see grown men in mouse suits."

  
  


"Let us see," said Mr. Granger, and Ron turned so that he and Mrs. Granger could see the front of his shirt. "Yup," Mr. Granger confirmed, "it says Disneyland."

  
  


Hermione shook her last gift, and noted that it made a thumping noise and that there was definitely more than one thing in the box. After that, she couldn't tell what it was. She pulled off the paper and opened the box.

  
  


Inside, on a bed of tissue paper, was a pair of ice skates. They were obviously well made. The blades gleamed in the light from the Christmas tree, and the smell of leather drifted up from the box.

  
  


"Wow," she whispered, and she took one out of the box and held it up to better admire it. 

  
  


"Do you like them?" asked Mrs. Granger. "I remembered you saying something about your old pair being too small. I hope they fit."

  
  


"You know how to ice skate?" asked Harry, a look of disbelief on his face. Over his shoulder, Hermione could see the same expression on Ron's- except there was something else there too. 

  
  


"A little," she admitted in an off-handed sort of way. 

  
  


"A little?" said Mr. Granger. "She's being modest! She's a wonderful skater! She was the next Kristi Yamaguchi. She was in competitions and everything!"

  
  


"Only one, and I didn't win." Hermione winced the slightest bit at the memory of her one and only competition- what a flop that had been. "I didn't even place."

  
  


"Why didn't we know about this hidden talent of yours, Hermione?" asked Harry. He sounded extremely amused.

  
  


"I don't know, it never came up." Hermione glanced at Ron, and saw that he was scowling the slightest bit.

  
  


"What do you mean, 'it never came up?'" Ron said. "You just didn't bother telling us about this huge thing, because we never asked you about it?"

  
  


Hermione, who was quite taken aback, wondered why Ron was getting so angry. "It's really not a big deal." 

  
  


"I think it is!"

  
  


"I'm going to go make some breakfast," said Mrs. Granger and she left, Mr. Granger following close behind. 

  
  


"And I need to go... er... get something," said Harry, and he too left the room, shutting the French doors that led from the living room into the rest of the house behind him. (A/N- Good old Harry, he knows when a row is coming on!) Hermione saw this all out of the corner of her eye; she was busy glaring at Ron. Why was he doing this, and on Christmas too?

  
  


"Ron, just calm down!"

  
  


"Why? You just go and lie to me and Harry-"

  
  


"Lie?" Hermione saw red- how dare he call her a liar! "When did I ever lie about it? I just didn't tell you!"

  
  


"It's the same thing. We're your best friends, and you never mention this to us?" Ron's voice was almost at the point of yelling.

  
  


"Why did I have to? I didn't think that either of you would really care."

  
  


"Well, we do."

  
  


"How do you know if Harry cares? He's not in here screaming at me for no reason!" She could hear her own voice rising, but she really didn't care. "So why are you in here, Ron? Why do you care?" She had a sudden flashback to the night of the Yule Ball, when she had said almost these same words to him in the common room.

  
  


_'Why does it bother you that I went with Victor Krum, Ron? Why do you care so much?' _

  
  


When Ron didn't answer, when he just glared at her, she gathered up her new skates, turned on her heel, and ran from the room. 

  
  


~**~**~**~**~

  
  


Harry was upstairs in the guest room, listening to the muffled shouts coming from below. There was a period of brief silence, footsteps running up the stairs, and a door slamming. Harry guessed it was Hermione's.

  
  


Harry sighed and flopped onto the bed. When would they learn? 

  
  


A minute later more footsteps came thundering up the stairs, and Ron burst into the room, positively livid. 

  
  


"Why is she so... so... difficult?" he burst out, glaring at him as if it was all Harry's fault. "I mean, it can't be the whole lot of them, Ginny's a girl and she doesn't act like... like that."

  
  


"Ron, just calm down-"

  
  


"Why does everyone keep telling me to do that?"

  
  


"Because you need to calm down."

  
  


Ron stopped glaring at Harry and plopped down in a chair. "Just whose side are you on, anyway?" he mumbled, sounding depressed.

  
  


"Uh-uh, no, I don't take sides in your little wars. You're on your own." Harry looked at Ron imploringly. He wasn't sure if he could ask the question without consequences. He decided to go for it anyway. "Why did you get so mad?" He, of course, knew the answer to the question, and had for months. He just wanted to know if Ron knew it.

  
  


There was a long pause, and then Ron sighed, "I don't know, mate. I just don't know."

  
  


~**~**~**~**~

  
  


Well, alright! That's it for this chapter, but there's much more to come! Ok, not a whole ton more to come, but I'll be having... eight, maybe nine chapters, so you'll get your money's worth, don't worry. 

  
  


The REO Speedwagon thing... Sorry, I was listening to the song "Can't Fight This Feeling Anymore," and it just fit. You know, just one of those things. Thanks to the crew at [www.sugarquill.com][1] for the idea... I loved the mental image of Ron, crashing through the door, LOL. Everyone, go there and check it out, it's hysterical!

  
  


There will be an explanation as to why Hermione even bothered with ice skating to begin with. It's all coming. Patience is a virtue. (I hate that saying... lol, it's true, I really have become my mother...) 

  
  


I got a few e-mails complaining that Ron was very OOC in the last chapter. Look at it this way- Voldemort is alive and kicking. That's enough to make anyone (except maybe for Cornelius Fudge) become a bit more subdued. Because it could all end, and would you want to die with someone mad at you? Or have someone else die while you were mad at them? I didn't think so.

  
  


Alright, I'm off to write some more, so I'll cya next time. We love you, Darth Vadar, goodnight!

  
  


P.S. 2nd Dedication- To Liz, who helped me a whole TON with this chapter. I'm positively amazed, girl. Everyone, she's practically an English teacher. And as an added bonus, she titled the chapter for me! Is there anything this girl can't do? Liz: beta-reader extrordinare. You rock!! Hasta luego!

   [1]: www.sugarquill.com



	7. Casual Observance Leads to Chilling Cala...

Ok. I'm humble. To anyone who might have been waiting for this, I'm so very sorry that it took me such a long time. I had given up on this story completely because after reading it over I've decided that I'm not very proud of it. It's hard to continue something that you're not proud of. I think the reason that I'm not pleased with this is that I've realized that it's not the most canon-rific! of fics. I payed close attention to dialogue in particular in my rereads, and I'm completely off-base for most of it. Hermione is too flippant when she speaks to her parents, Harry is *way* too perceptive, and Ron is just too... too British. Of course duh yeah he *is* British, but he's too... proper British. I mean, come on. I made him use the words "good show." That's very sad, isn't it? 

  
  


But anyway. I'm not here to rant and whine. I got myself into this mess of a fanfic, I need to get myself out of it (if only for the satisfaction of ending this piece of crap that I used to enjoy creating). If there's anything I'm not, it's a quitter. So... Here it is. The seventh chapter of "Flying Without Wings." (God, I hate that title. What was I thinking?) I went back and changed parts of the sixth chapter, too. I didn't like the way it turned out. 

  
  


Since it's been so long, I'm going to give you guys a little chapter-by-chapter summary. Chapter 1: After having a bizarre dream that involves herself in ice skates, Hermione wakes up one morning. She goes to the Great Hall for breakfast where she recieves a letter from her parents, saying that she must come home for Christmas, and that she's to bring Harry and Ron with her. Chapter 2: We find out why Hermione is horrified at the idea of bringing Harry and Ron home with her, and they all make the trip to King's Cross. Chapter 3: The trio meet up with Mr. and Mrs. Granger, and drive to the Granger's house. Hermione gets angry for no apparent reason, let's chalk it up to PMS. (yeah, way to go, Courtney.) Chapter 4: After ice skating on the pond behind the house, Hermione is sent to wake up Ron and Harry for breakfast. They apologize, she accepts, a pillow fight ensues. Chapter 5: The kids are recruited to shovel the driveway while Mr. and Mrs. Granger go into town for some last minute shopping. Ron learns how to use a Band-Aid, and (once they're outside) shows his sensitive side :). Chapter 6: Christmas morning. While opening presents, Ron and Hermione get into a fight in which there's a lot of yelling (well... duh), and Ron (unintentionally) insults a sore spot of Hermione's. The fight only ends when Hermione storms from the room after getting the last word in. Chapter 7: Hermio- Oh yeah. Just see below! 

  
  


~**~**~**~**~Hermione couldn't remember a more uncomfortable Christmas. Sure, there'd been a few awkward occasions, especially as she got older, but never before had she been so completely nervous. She, Harry and Ron all had seats at the children's table along with most of her cousins; for this she was grateful. It was bad enough that Ron and Harry had had to meet her family, she didn't need to worry about them actually talking to her relatives. 

Harry had sat between her and Ron, trying to get some sort of conversation going between them. Hermione had ignored his attempts. She didn't plan on speaking to Ron anytime soon after what he had said to her. She had instead focused on her plate and her cousins.

Now she was sitting on the living room couch with one of the books her parents had given her that morning. The sounds of talking and laughter floated from the kitchen where the adults and her older cousins were still gathered, some playing cards and others just hanging out. Harry and Ron had been recruited by some of the younger kids to help build a huge tent fort. Shrieks and shouts came from the den, where they had set up camp.

Twelve year old Danielle wandered in with a book under her arm. "Hey Hermione." Hermione smiled at her.

"Hi." Danielle seated herself in a chair and opened her book. They read in silence for a few minutes.

"Can I ask you something?" she said suddenly, and Hermione closed her book and nodded.

"Of course."

"Ok." Danielle raised an eyebrow. "What's up with you today?"

Hermione shrugged. "I don't know. I'm just not in the Christmas spirit, I guess."

"Why?"

Hermione sighed, "I had a fight with my friend Ron." 

"That's the red-headed one, right?"

"Right." 

"What did you guys fight about?" Danielle asked.

"I have no idea." Hermione sighed again. "Mum and Dad gave me some new ice skates, and then he called me a liar because I didn't tell him that I used to skate."

Danielle waited for more, but she was finished. "That's it?" she asked skeptically. Hermione nodded. "Let me get this straight. You never told him absolutely everything about you, so he got mad?"

Hermione shrugged. "Well.... yeah. I guess that's one version."

"Hmm." Danielle rubbed an imaginary beard. "Sounds... suspicious."

Hermione snorted. "What a brilliant deduction." She rolled her eyes. "And anyway, you're wrong, it's not suspicious in the least. Ron and I always fight about stuff like that. It's just the way we are together."

"So... Do you guys have a *thing* going on?"

"No!" Hermione gave a short laugh. "He's one of my best friends, Danielle."

"He definitely acts like it, too. You know the old saying, 'with friends like that...'?"

Unsure of why she was doing it, Hermione defended Ron. "So he's not always the nicest guy. He has his good moments, you just haven't seen any yet." Hermione was silent for a minute, thinking. Then she scoffed. "Ron and me, having a thing. Right. You're completely crazy."

"Ok. I'm crazy." Danielle gave a fake, mad-scientist laugh and returned to her book. Hermione looked at her for a moment, a trifle miffed, then went back to her book as well. 

A loud crash came from the den. Running footsteps, and then a voice shouting, "Mum! Billy broke that big white thing on Aunt Helen's table!"

A few minutes later Hermione's mom poked her head into the living room. "Hermione, could you take the kids outside? They're getting rowdy."

"No problem." Hermione stood up and grabbed her coat from the closet. "Do you want to come?" she asked Danielle.

"Sure."

"Alright then. Put your jacket on and get the kids' boots and stuff ready, will you?" Hermione went to the den to round up her cousins. "Come on guys, let's go outside and play in the snow!"

"But what about our tent?" asked Ryan, pulling at Hermione's pant leg. "I want to finish the tent!" Ryan was only three, and the baby of his family. He was spoiled rotten, and Hermione could see a tantrum coming on.

"You can finish it when we come back inside, ok?" Ryan screwed up his face, obviously getting ready to scream at the top of his lungs.

Ron hurried over and lifted Ryan in the air, putting the small child on his shoulders. "I'll tell you what. Come outside with me and I'll help you build a snowman!"

"Ok!" Ryan's frown instantly left his face. "Let's go!"

Ron marched him around the room, bouncing in his steps. He caught Hermione giving him a funny look. "What?"

She turned and stomped away. Leave it to Ron to be better with kids than she was. Hermione didn't know why she was surprised. Ron was pretty childish himself, no wonder he got along with kids so well; they could relate to him.

  
  


~**~**~**~**~

  
  


Ten minutes later they were all outside. Three of Hermione's cousins and Ron were building a snowman, two were making a fort, and the rest plus Harry were engaged in a snowball fight. Hermione watched from the sidelines; she didn't have the energy for a fight, she was no good at building things, and she didn't want to be near Ron. That left her with zero options. She sat on the porch and watched the sky. The sun hadn't set yet, but it was getting close. The sky had taken on a light purple tinge near the horizon. 

Danielle paused in the act of throwing a snowball at her brother. "Come on, Hermione!" She payed for her lapse in attention when he hit her instead. "Dork!" She ran off after him and grabbed the back of his jacket, pushing him down to the ground and rubbing snow in his hair. "That'll teach ya." She brushed her gloves off and sat down next to Hermione. "Are you just going to sit here all night?"

Hermione faked thinking it over. "Um... Yeah."

Danielle rolled her eyes. "I can't let that happen. You're home for Christmas for the first time in four years. Having a bad time is not an option. You are going to have fun, whether you like it or not!" 

"Alright, fine," Hermione said with a laugh. "What should we do? Nothing that will get me wet, please."

"Well there goes just about everything. Hmm..." Danielle smiled. "We could go skating."

Hermione shook her head. "I don't think so."

"Oh come on! What else are we going to do?"

"But..." Hermione sighed. "Truthfully? I just don't want Ron to see me skating. He'd just get mad again, and I don't know if I could handle another fight right now."

"The pond's in the backyard. We don't have to tell anyone where we're going." Danielle looked at her with pleading eyes. "Please? You can teach me how to do a twirl or something."

"You don't have skates!" said Hermione, her voice holding a slight bit of triumph.

"I can wear your old ones!" Danielle shot right back, her tone identical to Hermione's.

"You're not going to give up on this, are you?" Danielle shook her head, grinning widely. Hermione sighed with resignation. "Fine. I'll go get the skates. Meet me around back." Danielle clapped her hands, and Hermione went inside.

  
  


~**~**~**~**~

  
  


"No, you have to lean to the inside when you move into it. Try again," Hermione instructed, watching as Danielle fell down for the fifth time in a row. 

Danielle let out a groan of frustration. "What am I doing wrong?" she demanded, legs sprawled out in front of her. "I leaned to the inside! I concentrated. Why can't I do the stupid spin?"

Hermione laughed and helped the younger girl to her feet. "Over-correction. You need to lean, but not so far that you tip over. Try again?"

"I don't think so," Danielle said, rubbing her arm. "My elbow hurts. Not to mention by ankles, my knees, my butt..." 

Hermione giggled. "Amateur." Danielle skated to the edge of the pond and sat down on the log on which they had sat to put on their skates. 

"I'm putting my shoes back on." She watched as Hermione did a quick spin. "I thought you didn't really want to skate?"

"I changed my mind." Hermione jumped in the air and spun twice before landing. "It's therapeutic. And you can keep those," she said, nodding towards the skates Danielle had just taken off. "They're too small for me." She continued to skate, twisting and zig-zagging on the ice. Danielle watched quietly for awhile, but jumped up when she heard a shout.

"Danielle! We're leaving now!" Her father and mother were standing by the house, already dressed in their coats and scarves. 

"Alright, dad! Just a minute!" Danielle turned back to Hermione, who skated over to the edge of the pond. "I guess I'll see you later?"

"Guess so." Danielle hugged her, and Hermione almost overbalanced. They both giggled, and Danielle grabbed the extra pair of skates and trudged through the snow to her parents.

"Bye you guys!" Hermione yelled after her aunt and uncle, waving her arm over her head. They called back their farewells, and then they were gone.

Hermione looked after them for awhile, then turned back to the lake. Just a few more minutes, then I'll go in, she thought. She pushed away from the edge, taking a deep breath to prepare herself. She wanted a workout.

As Hermione put herself through the paces, she could feel her mind clearing. Nothing seemed as important as making sure that she landed her next jump, nothing more vital than keeping her form steady. Concerns about her family, her anger at Ron... Everything faded away as she moved.

She went into a tight spin, almost losing her balance at the beginning but pushing herself to finish. As Hermione extended her arms above her head, hands clasped together, she noticed someone standing up by the house, watching her

Hermione ended the spin immediately. It was Ron, and as she watched, Harry ran up next to him. For one moment she stared at him, and he looked right back. Harry said something, and Ron shook his head, continuing to stare. The peacefulness that she had felt just a second ago began to dissolve, and she was suddenly filled with fury. Ron had already ruined Christmas for her, and she wasn't about to let him ruin this as well. 

She turned and skated away, her legs pumping hard to pick up speed. Her skating was 'stupid', was it? She'd show him stupid. Praying that she wouldn't fall, she jumped into the air, spinning twice and stretching one leg straight out behind herself after she landed. She skated backwards in a tight circle, letting the momentum from the jump carry her along the ice. Hermione looked back at Ron, and she could tell, even from so far away, that he was completely amazed. 

She internally scoffed. He thought that was impressive? He ain't seen nothing yet. She brought her leg down and used the last of her quickness to jump into a spin, whirling fast enough to impress but slow enough to be able to keep her balance. She could hear Harry cheering her on. She broke from her spin and skated hard to regain speed. She felt exulted, like she could do anything. She could see the look on Ron's face as she skated past him; he and Harry had walked closer to the pond and she could tell just how impressed he was.

Feeling the cold winter air whip across her face and through her hair, hearing Harry's shouts of encouragement, and most of all, seeing his expression... All of these things made Hermione want to do new things, try her most difficult jump. The thought that it was too dangerous, she could get hurt, registered in her mind but she deleted it immediately. She could do it. She could do anything.

Hermione pumped her legs as hard as she could, mentally preparing herself for what was going to come next. She'd only pulled it off once before. If spins were difficult for her, axle jumps were impossible. Not only were they difficult, but it was dangerous; she hadn't stretched before skating, she was out of practice... A thousand doubts ran through her mind, but the need to put Ron in his place, as it always did, won through.

She took a breath, closed her eyes, and leapt higher than she ever had before. She kicked her right leg up and pulled in her arms and legs, spinning rapidly. She knew in her mind that she would stick the landing, knew that she wouldn't fall as she had so many times in practice. She prepared herself to land, knowing that as soon as she did she was going to start shouting and yelling like there was no tomorrow, whether Ron was watching or not. 

All this happened in a split second. Her arc started to turn downward, she started to smile... 

She landed on the pond. Hermione opened her mouth to cheer, but there was a sickening crunch, a sucking feeling, and then a flash of freezing cold that knocked all thoughts from her head. 

She had fallen through the ice.

  
  


~**~**~**~**~

  
  


I'm so mean! I keep you guys waiting for such a long time for this chapter, and now I end it with the biggest cliffhanger that the story will ever have. The big climatic cliffie is what I call this sort of thing. I don't know when chapter eight will be up, hopefully before a big bunch of months... lol.

  
  


Whoops! I forgot a Disclaimer. I really *am* out of practice, huh? Harry Potter and all related characters, etc., are the property of JK Rowling, Scholastic, and (I think) Warner Bros. I don't own Danielle or Ryan, because they're modeled after two of my cousins (except the real-life Danielle is only eight). I might own the plot, depending on what sort of day it is. If it's a struggle-for-words day, then it isn't mine. If it's one of those days where the words flow, then it is mine. Um... I think that's it... Yup, that's all.

  
  


Wait. I need a dedication too. Dedicated to Manu, for letting me read her stuff first ("Who's the incompetent twit who let *that* happen?"! LOL) and for being a great friend (you guys may have guessed that I'm a natural ranter... She excepts this and offers advice free of charge. She's also the one responsible for guilt-tripping me into posting... LOL, just kidding.) Thanks for always listening, girl! You rule!!! And I *will* visit you one day, we just have to believe that it'll happen. Ubergirls forever! Two Plus Two for Me and You!

  
  


We love you Darth Vadar, goodnight!!!


End file.
